Secrets
by Paigeann
Summary: '"I've come about something a little more personal," he said, leaning against Emma's desk.  "In fact, I've come to collect my favor."'    My first-ever try at fan fiction. A possible storyline in Storybrooke after "Skin Deep."  Goes AU after Episode 14.
1. Chapter 1

_Since I don't own ABC, I'm sure the story will unfold quite differently than I've imagined. This is just a humble attempt to stop obsessing about "Skin Deep" by getting it out of my system and into the world. If you choose to review—which would be delightful—please be honest but kind. I haven't written for years, and as much as I might wish otherwise, this is nowhere near as extraordinary as some of the fan fiction that I have read._

* * *

><p>Mr. Gold sat alone in The Rabbit Hole, turning his cup of tea. Around him, couples were joining and separating, and friends greeted each other jovially. He spoke to no one and no one spoke to him; that was the way he liked it. Sometimes, he just needed to leave that quiet, empty house, with the voices and whispers from so long ago. Besides, after a few drinks, people became careless with secrets, and he could usually learn a thing or two about the folks in Storybrooke. Power was all about secrets, and he stored them up to use when it came time to make a deal.<p>

He tuned in to the worn-looking man sitting at the bar nearby. The man's hair was long and dirty, and he leaned toward the bartender with the air of someone who had had one drink too many. He spoke intently and a little too loudly, so it wasn't too hard to hear him. He had just begun talking about some girl.

"I'm telling you, they're keeping her in the basement," he said. The bartender, who was wiping down the counter, appeared unmoved.

"Man, she haunts me," the man continued with an exaggerated sigh. "Spooky blue eyes—when she looks at you, it's like she can see right inside you."

He remembered other searching blue eyes, and for a moment he was lost in a reverie. He remembered her surprising softness when she fell, literally, into his arms. That had been the first time since his transformation that someone did not look away from him in distaste or shrink from his touch, and the sweetness of the moment still caused his heart, or what was left of it, to turn over. But hers was one of the voices he heard when he was alone, and he had not come here to think of her. He returned to his eavesdropping.

The gaunt man continued. "See, she was there when I started at the hospital, and no one ever comes to see her except the Mayor. She checks in every once in awhile; sometimes she goes inside, but other times she just looks through the window, like she's checking on a captive."

Finally, the bartender responded, annoyed. "So there's this crazy chick locked in the hospital basement, and the Mayor is keeping her prisoner? Sounds like one heck of a story."

"Shhh!" his customer whispered unsteadily. "It's supposed to be some big secret. Mayor Mills said that no one can know about her, especially…"

Before continuing, the long-haired man looked around conspiratorially. When he saw Mr. Gold, his face turned as white as a sheet. He gulped down his beer and left, moving swiftly for someone so inebriated.

So Regina was keeping a secret from him, eh? Mr. Gold couldn't think of a better reason to find it out. He was a man of secrets, after all. And if Madame Mayor didn't want him to know something, it was surely worth knowing. As the evening drunks wandered in and out, he leaned back in his chair, lost in thought.

* * *

><p><em>I have dribs and drabs of other chapters, but heaven knows when they'll be readable by the public. Any thoughts? <em>


	2. Chapter 2

_So I cheated…the quote from the summary wasn't in the first chapter. But it is in the second…_

* * *

><p>Emma looked up from her requisition forms when she heard the door open. There was the familiar sound of a cane tapping across the floor, accompanied by Mr. Gold's awkward gait. His dour expression was the same as usual, but the crafty look in his eyes aroused her suspicions. She put up her guard.<p>

"Good morning, Miss Swan," he said, formal as usual. "I see you have managed to keep yourself busy without harassing any more pillars of the community."

"You said you'd let bygones be bygones," said Emma testily. "What can I do for you today? Another theft? Has some desperado stolen your candlesticks this time?"

"I've come about something a little more personal," he said, leaning against her desk. "In fact, I've come to collect my favor."

Emma kept a neutral expression, but inside she cursed herself for making that ridiculous deal. Ever since last month, when Gold confirmed that he had not forgotten, Emma was well aware that this "favor" could very well be something considerable. She shuddered as she thought of all the requests he could make. Something illegal, probably, or at least something dangerous. She really, really hoped that he wouldn't ask her for anything too shady. She wasn't afraid to say no to this little man who thought he owned the town, but she had a feeling he could become quite unpleasant if crossed. Still, if the deal had anything to do with Henry…

"I need a name," he said. "It has come to my attention that in the hospital, there is a young lady, a mental patient, I believe, who has been kept apart in a private basement room for a considerable amount of time. The poor girl hasn't had any visitors in quite awhile, and I was thinking of checking up on her family. It seems positively cruel to keep her alone for so long."

"That's all?" asked Emma, relieved but puzzled. "Why don't you just ask the hospital yourself?" _And why do you care anyhow, _she thought to herself.

"It's complicated," he said with a wry smile. "I would like the inquiry to remain confidential; my intentions are the best, of course, but it would look odd if an ordinary citizen were to go poking about. As sheriff, you could just say that inquiries had been made."

"Just the name?" said Emma. "You don't want me to track down the family?"

"That's not necessary; I wouldn't want to trouble you," Gold said hastily. "Besides, I am very good at finding people when I want to."

"No kidding," said Emma, thinking of poor Moe French. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

><p><em>Belle will arrive by Chapter 4. I'm not great at writing what's going on in characters' heads—hope Emma isn't OOC. <em>


	3. Chapter 3

_Trying to get to Chapter 5 as soon ASAP—it's where I actually started the writing. (Although Belle won't be out, it was fun to write anyhow.)_

* * *

><p>Emma couldn't believe how hard it was to get a simple name. None of the official hospital records mentioned anyone being kept in the lower level of the hospital, and all the doors were locked. Every staff member she asked gave her a blank look or a suspicious glare before turning away. Even Leroy, who was at least civil to her, had no idea of what was down there. Why all the secrecy? Weren't these people the least bit curious about what went on under their noses?<p>

Emma finally resorted to standing by the door, drinking a coffee and making believe that she was interested in the nurses' gossip. A heavy man in janitor's scrubs was just leaving, and Emma dropped her coffee cup in the trash and caught the door. As she walked down the stairs, she noticed the dank musty smell and the overwhelming silence. How depressing would it be to actually have to stay down here?

The stone-faced nurse at the desk listened to Emma's request in silence. Then she shook her head.

"Sorry," she said, not sounding at all sorry. "Sharing patient names is confidential. It would be illegal to share information without contacting the mayor."

"Mayor Mills? What does she have to do with anything?" asked Emma, annoyed. "I'm the sheriff. If anyone can have confidential information, it should be me." _Seriously?_ W_hat could Regina possibly have to do with this? _

"There's nothing I can do," said the nurse, with sour look on her face. "Sheriff Graham and Madame Mayor signed off on the order. If you'd like, I can contact Ms. Mills and see if she will grant permission."

"Don't bother," said Emma crossly, and turned away. She began to wonder what she had gotten herself into. This was starting to feel wrong, and since that incident with Sidney, she had tried to stay on Regina's good side. Then she thought of her deal with Gold. She knew that if she didn't fulfill this favor, he might come up with something a bit more distasteful. She thought of Henry, and of the fragile friendships that she had formed in Storybrooke since her arrival. Friends in Boston had been hard to come by—to be completely honest, they had been non-existent—and she didn't want to do something that might hurt one of these strange, sad people. The only harm this would do would be to annoy Regina, and that fact just made Emma more determined. She was tired of tiptoeing around the drama queen; she had banned Emma from seeing Henry, and what else could she really do?

Deep in thought, she pushed the door open at the top of the stairs and almost collided with the janitor. Emma moved to let him pass, and then stopped abruptly. This long-haired hippie could probably use a few extra bucks, and he might be useful. Turning, she caught him by the arm.

"Hey buddy," she said quietly. "How much do janitors get paid these days anyhow?"


	4. Chapter 4

_Short chapter—just moving the plot along. _

* * *

><p>The girl stirred fretfully on her cot. A lazy ray of sun shown in through the frosted windows above, and she imagined she heard children playing outside. Probably not, though; she had called and called to the shadows that passed by her window, and no one ever seemed to hear.<p>

Sometimes it seemed as though she had been here forever. These four drab walls were all she could remember. The woman who visited—Regina, she called herself—said that she was here for her own good, and she believed it. Sometimes, however, she wished that she could see outside, just for a little bit. She wasn't sure how she even knew that there was anything out there; after all, she didn't remember ever seeing it. However, she knew that there had once been Something Else, even though she only saw it at night in her dreams.

She raised her head as the man in blue scrubs brought in her dinner tray. He wasn't much to look at, but since he was one of the only people she ever saw, she looked forward to his silent daily visits. She had tried to talk to him a few times, but he always shook his head with a nervous look at the door. Why wasn't he allowed to talk to her? It wasn't like she wanted to subject him to an inquisition; it would just be nice to talk to someone new for a change.

After he dropped off her tray, the unkempt man usually left without a glance. This time, however, he stood awkwardly for a moment. Suddenly he reached into his pocket and took out a small black contraption. The girl wondered if she should be alarmed; usually he looked half asleep, but now he was furtive and intent.

"Smile pretty for the camera, sweetie," he growled in a gruff voice, and the girl was blinded by a bright flash of light. When her vision cleared, the man had gone and the door had been securely locked once again.

* * *

><p><em>I'm a little nervous about writing dialogue for Belle—after all, we haven't heard what she sounds like in the modern world. Guess I'll have to tackle that before long…<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_Finally, the pieces are beginning to fall into place. I know that the story is moving slowly, but I don't want to rush them._

* * *

><p>"I couldn't get you a name." Emma said to Mr. Gold. "But," she added with a triumphant smirk, "I did manage this." She slid the picture of the winsome, sad-eyed girl across her desk, watching Gold carefully.<p>

He snatched up the picture and stared at it, transfixed. His eyes widened slightly, and she could have sworn he stopped breathing. He stood so still that she felt as though she was looking at a movie that had been set to pause. Then the hand holding the picture began to tremble, and the slender tapered fingers of his other hand moved uncertainly toward the picture, and then hung in the air, as if he was afraid the face would disappear if he touched it.

"I take it you know her," said Emma quietly. "Does this make us even?"

He answered absently, as if from a distance. "Of course, of course. Your obligation has been fulfilled." Then, shaking slightly, he carefully placed the photograph in an inner recess of his spotless coat.

"What's her name?" asked Emma.

"I have no idea," he said with an airiness that didn't fool her for a second. "She looks a bit like someone I knew once upon a time. And now, Miss Swan, if you'll excuse me…" He made for the door.

"Maybe Regina knows," said Emma slyly. "I guess I could always ask her."

Mr. Gold's cane fell to the floor, and in two steps he stumbled to the desk. Leaning heavily, he brought his face within inches of hers.

"You won't say anything to her," he hissed menacingly. "Not about the picture, not about the girl, and not about this conversation. Not. One. Word."

Emma shrugged nonchalantly. Secretly, she was unsettled. She had always made a point to display her lack of fear in this backwards town, especially around the Mayor and Mr. Gold. After all, she had faced criminals large and small in Boston—cheaters, murderers, even a rapist or two. But the intensity and venom in Gold's voice—and was that a trace of desperation?—was something she hadn't expected. She thought of asking what he would do if she ignored him.

Instead, she said, "You don't need to tell me twice. I dislike Regina as much as you do." Satisfied, Mr. Gold stooped to pick up his cane and turned back to the door.

"I don't think you do, my dear," he murmured as he reached for the door. He spoke quietly, and again he sounded very far away. "You don't know her like I do."

* * *

><p><em>I liked writing this. Not sure how Mr. Gold would act under these conditions, but I tried not to make him too OOC. <em>


	6. Chapter 6

_Much as I hate to, I have to give Belle her "modern" name. I saw this one in another fan fiction (I would give credit if I remembered which one) and decided to borrow it. I hope that is not a bad thing? It seemed to fit better than most._

* * *

><p>"You had no right!" Regina raged. "What business is she of yours? Her father has given up any rights to her, and she is my ward. Mine!"<p>

Emma couldn't believe how quickly this woman could raise her ire. This morning, she had felt guilty for doing something that was, though not exactly wrong, certainly not quite appropriate. After all, she had bribed the janitor and taken a picture of a mental patient without her consent. But now she was angry, and she would be damned if she'd let this smug woman get the best of her.

The last thing she expected to encounter at the station this afternoon was an irate Mayor in her office. At first, she wondered who had spilled the beans. The janitor? Why would he bother? He had his money. And she doubted that Gold had anything to do with it after his warning yesterday. Then she remembered the nurse who refused to give her the patient's name. Likely as not, the old prune had gone running to Regina first thing this morning. Now Emma wondered why it had taken the Mayor so long to arrive.

"Well, I don't see why I can't at least have her name," said Emma reasonably. "If she's such a big secret…"

"Rose French," said Regina. Emma blinked. "Yes, that French. Did you think I was keeping her locked away in a dungeon? After her mother died, her father gave me custody. They are estranged—I doubt he can even remember why—and she became so distraught and unstable after the death and rejection that I put her away for her own good."

"Her own good," echoed Emma skeptically, thinking of the dank, silent basement. "In that case, I don't see why I can't speak with her."

"Didn't you hear me? She's unstable! You'll have nothing to do with her. I don't want her upset again. Mr. French and I made this decision long before you came here, and it will only cause harm if you go sticking your nose where in isn't wanted."

"But..." Emma objected. She didn't know what to say, but something was not right, and she didn't want Regina to win this round.

"But nothing. Stay out of it, or your little outings with Henry will be a distant memory." Without another word, Regina turned and strode from the office.

"What is with her?" Emma asked the empty room. If this Rose person was just any mental patient, then Emma didn't see the big deal. But the fact that Regina had her claws into her bothered Emma more than she wanted to admit.

Emma's mind returned to Moe French, and with it, the terrible night that she arrested Gold. What had he been saying? _You had her love, and you shut her out! You were her father! _This town just got weirder by the day.

Emma suddenly realized that in her annoyance with the Mayor, she had kept Gold's secret, as he had instructed. She snorted in wry amusement. Emma didn't like the man, not exactly, but she was beginning to dislike him a bit less. She couldn't forget his wistfulness at the sight of the little picture.


	7. Chapter 7

_I don't think they ever mention Belle's age, but I imagined her as kind of young. Is this too much of a leap? _

* * *

><p>That evening, Regina only half-listened as Sidney whined about his inability to discredit Gold. "He's as slippery as an eel," Sidney complained. "I've tried and tried, but I just can't get anything to stick. You'd think the man was magic, the way he manages to twist everything to his advantage."<p>

Gold. Regina was no fool, and she knew exactly who had started Emma on her quest. The question was, how did he find out? She had been so careful. They both knew that he was the real power in Storybrooke, but it was some comfort to her that his pleasure was incomplete without that silly girl.

She still remembered meeting Belle and realizing that she was probably the one good thing in old Rumpel's life. His one good thing. Why should he, who had done so much evil, be allowed to keep the thing he loved most? Her one good thing had been taken from her, and when hating Snow had failed to ease the ache, she began to despise anyone who had the happiness she had lost. It would have been convenient if he had lost his power, but the sight of hope leaving Rumpelstiltskin's pathetic face in his castle had made her feel a little bit less alone.

She tuned back into Sidney as something caught her attention. "…no affairs—not even the slightest hint of a woman of any kind, as a matter of fact. You'd think the man was a monk." Sidney paused as something occurred to him. "Wait—you don't think he's…"

"No, no," said the Mayor. "Besides, that probably wouldn't make for much of a scandal even if it was true. But you keep digging. You never know when something might turn up." She smiled to herself as she thought of the girl in the basement. What if she let Emma free the little minx—better yet, what if Emma had responsibility for her? Regina was willing to bet that Belle's former captor wouldn't be able to stay away from his little ingénue for long. Rose was, what—seventeen? Even if she was of age, people wouldn't find it very attractive to think of the taciturn man with a girl who was not only half his age, but perhaps mentally unstable to boot. Even if she wasn't, a few well-placed innuendos and ugly rumors in "The Mirror" might start people talking. And who would they blame? Why, the guardian, of course! Even if Emma managed to keep Gold away from Rose, jealousy would simply eat the man up if his "true love" found someone else. The possibilities were just as endless as they were delightful.

After Sidney left, Regina flipped through the file that she had taken home from the hospital. As she read, she added a few notes here and there, until Rose resembled a frail, unhinged invalid. Finally, she closed the file and sat back in her chair. She'd allow Emma Swan to win this round. But this would not be the end. No, not at all. She opened the file again and looked at the girl's picture. Then she addressed it with a sneer.

"Well, little girl. It seems you may be of some use to me after all."


	8. Chapter 8

_I finished the next two chapters together and should probably wait to post the second one, but I'm not a very good tease. :-) Let me know if you have suggestions to improve "Rose." (Also, since I'm not aware of all the ins and outs of classifying mental patients, I made some assumptions. Unless I'm way off, just think of it as one of those weird Storybrooke exceptions…like Ashley drinking on Ep. 13.)_

* * *

><p>When Emma answered her door the next evening, she was surprised to find the Mayor standing in the hall with a visitor. She was even more amazed when she saw that Regina's companion was the girl from the picture. She was short, with striking blue eyes and brown hair held back in a clip. Her face was a little too pale and a sweatshirt and jeans hung loosely on a too thin frame, but she looked normal enough. She gazed shyly but curiously at Emma, and then, suddenly, her face lit up with a radiant smile as she looked around the little room. "What lovely flowers! Roses are my favorite," she said as Regina led her in.<p>

"I've been thinking about our conversation," said the Mayor, "and I've decided to give you a chance to prove yourself." Emma was speechless, so Regina continued. "Emma, this is Rose French. Rose, this is Sheriff Swan. She has shown an interest in your situation, and if she is willing, I'd like her to supervise you as an outpatient at the hospital. As we discussed," she continued to Rose as if Emma was invisible, "I think it's high time we made a change. How would you like her to be your temporary guardian?"

"Wait a minute," Emma broke in. "I was just asking to talk to her. I never said…"

"In that case, I'll just bring her back," Regina interrupted. "After all, she's too fragile to be on her own, and her father doesn't want her. I wish I could, but with my responsibilities, I'm not sure I could give her the care that she deserves." Rose's smile dimmed, and sighed in weary acceptance.

"Fine!" said Emma, exasperated. She knew what it was like to be unwanted, and she reflected that this girl didn't look much younger than Ashley. How much trouble could she be? She looked harmless enough. For once, Emma thought, her own wild past would pay off. If this girl got up to any mischief, she would see it coming a mile away.

Regina had already drawn up the necessary papers, almost as if she had known she would be successful, Emma thought ruefully. As she was leaving, the Mayor turned, as if she had forgotten something. She bent toward Emma and lowered her voice. "Just remember, Miss Swan, that she's your responsibility now. If anyone takes advantage of such a damaged young girl, it will be on your head."


	9. Chapter 9

As the days passed, Emma didn't know what to make of Rose. Despite her incarceration, or perhaps because of it, she seemed as guileless and innocent as a child. She knew how to read and write and she cleaned and cooked with surprising skill for one so long secluded, but her knowledge of the outside world was severely lacking. Her awe of Regina was as complete as it was bizarre. She seemed to believe that the Mayor had truly locked her up for her own good, and she defended her as stoutly as if she had been brainwashed, which perhaps she had. Otherwise, she was bright and inquisitive, and she seemed remarkably healthy considering the circumstances.

As they were sharing dinner one evening, Rose looked at Emma. "You know," she said, "you and Mary Margaret have done so much for me. But I think I need a place of my own."

As much as Emma hated to admit it, she knew that Rose was right. The apartment was barely big enough for Mary Margaret and herself, and Rose seemed to have adjusted surprisingly quickly already. Surely they could find somewhere quiet and safe where she could stay out of trouble. Emma could stop in after work to make sure that she was not getting high or pregnant—basically, not doing what Emma herself had done at the same age. Perhaps Granny had a room? Emma was doubtful on whether this would be the best choice. Although the woman was kind, it was well known that Ruby had her grandmother wrapped around her little finger. Ruby was fun for a girls' night, but Emma wasn't sure how her careless brashness would affect the wide-eyed girl before her.

Then she remembered Gold. Though he had certainly lied about recognizing her, there had been no malice or cunning in his manner. And he had helped, albeit unintentionally, in prompting Rose's eventual release. Of course, Emma couldn't leave Rose under his care; she had begun to view him with less suspicion, but he still was unpredictable and not quite to be trusted. But she knew he had rooms to let, and even if he wasn't concerned about the girl's well-being, Emma was sure that he'd keep her away from her father and Regina, if only out of spite. Frankly, at the moment she couldn't think of a better solution.

"Well," Emma said slowly, "maybe we can find something. How would you like to go for a walk?"

As Mr. Gold locked up his shop, he brooded inwardly over the picture. What he wanted was to hurry to the hospital and sweep her out of that dismal place to safety. Something—someone—was stopping him, though. Although the Queen's magic didn't work here, she could enact her vengeance without it. He remembered too well the feeling of exile that he had experienced long ago, and he had no desire to return to that isolation. Although the people of Storybrooke viewed him with suspicion, he was somewhat accepted, but that could change in a moment. And then there was Belle herself. Even if she would come back with him, where could they go? He recalled the Queen's ugly intimation about her "association" with him. If Belle was shunned, the way he had been those long years ago, what kind of life would that be?

He straightened up when the bell on the door tinkled as a last customer come in. Sighing inwardly, he looked up to see what desperate soul wanted to make a deal now. Then he froze. The person who entered was not desperate; in fact, she looked about curiously, and her eyes lit up as she saw the puppets hanging near the counter. She was thin and pale, but she looked pleased, as if she was starting on an adventure. She saw her former captor and smiled brightly.

"Hello!" she said. "You must be Mr. Gold."

* * *

><p><em>Whew! Okay, now I can slow down a little.<em>


	10. Chapter 10

_After going on a fan fiction reading binge, I am completely intimidated, but I need to set this chapter free before I erase it and start over again._

* * *

><p>He couldn't take his eyes off her. She paused in perusing the counter to look at him quizzically, and he hastily turned and began counting the coins in his antiquated cash register. He wanted to shake her and ask, <em>Where have you been? How is it that you're still alive? <em>He wanted to ask her forgiveness. Instead, he said, "I'd be happy to help you, but I'm just closing up shop for the night. Is there something you're looking for?" His voice wavered for a moment and he hated himself for it, hoping that she hadn't noticed.

"Well," she said hesitantly, "in a way, yes. You see, Emma…I mean, the Sheriff…she suggested that I come to see you." Rose explained about the too-small apartment. Then she added, "Em….Sheriff Swan said I should ask if you have any rooms to let."

"What about family?" he asked, not wanting to think about her father, but wondering what she had been told.

"Oh, my mother died and my father doesn't want me," she said simply.

"I'm so sorry…" he began.

"I used to be," she said with disarming candor. "But since I can't do anything about it, I have to go somewhere. I suppose it's sad, really, but I've always wanted to prove myself." Then she stopped and looked at him intently. "So, can you help me? I don't have much money, but I promise to pay."

He narrowed his eyes and gazed at her thoughtfully for a few moments. Then the corner of his mouth raised in just the slightest hint of the old wicked smile.

"I'll make you a deal," he said. "As you can see, my shop is badly in need of a cleaning, and I can't get around the way I used to." He nodded at his cane and accompanying limp. "I have a vacant room right above the shop, and no one has come to see it in ages. If you would be willing to take care of my shop in the afternoons, I'm sure you could earn your keep."

"Oh, that would be perfect," she bubbled, visibly relieved. Then she laughed. "But you don't even know who I am! Do you usually take strangers into your home?"

He faltered for a moment. Then, recovering, he said, "Well, it's not exactly my home, now, is it? Besides, since Sheriff Swan referred you to me, you must be an upstanding citizen, Miss…."

"Rose," she said. "Just Rose is fine."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Rose," he said, experimenting with the name. It would take some getting used to, but it suited her. He gave her an awkward bow, and she curtseyed formally and giggled.

Rose's life took on a predictable schedule. Mary Margaret helped her find work assisting at the school library, and every afternoon was spent tidying and working at the pawn shop. At first, visitors to the store stared at her curiously, but her winsome ways charmed them, and her employer's forbidding glower discouraged them from asking too many questions. Emma came to visit often with food and other sundries, and Rose's upstairs room gradually became more homelike. Although Mr. Gold never commented on her work, the place began to take on a brighter air. Eventually the townspeople became used to her presence, and she was almost invisible as she tidied up the shelves, humming and skipping nimbly between the odd trinkets and collections.

She found Mr. Gold to be an enigma. She felt his eyes on her from time to time, and although it was strange for her after being alone for so long, she became used to it. He must be lonely, after all. Although people constantly came in to make deals with him, none stopped to talk or share gossip as they did elsewhere. He was constantly busy, yet his isolation was palpable. She took to asking him questions, partly to fill the quiet, but partly to try to understand his odd air of melancholy and distance. Slowly at first, he began to tell her about the townspeople, peppering his conversation with stories and observations that delighted her. Soon, her laugh rang throughout the store, and his initial surprise turned to tolerant amusement. He began to tease her with little quips, awkward and dusty through lack of use. Her pleasure was so contagious that he found himself smiling as well, feeling the faintest hint of that old, impish glee.

Gold marveled at how much he had forgotten about her; her easy smile, her ringing laugh, her devious ways of wheedling him out of his dark moods. As far as he could tell, she did not remember a thing about who he was or what she had been to him. Thinking over how the past had played itself out, he wasn't sure if he wanted her to remember just yet. He had thought he would never see her again, and although he was furious that she had been kept from him for so long, all he wanted now was to regain the trust in him that she'd once had, the trust that she couldn't even remember losing so long ago.


	11. Chapter 11

_Don't you hate it when your computer dies? Lucky for me, my heroes at the computer store resurrected my hard drive. Then a bad case of writer's block hit...but OUAT's hiatus might give me a chance to finish the story of the characters. (FYI: the story goes AU after Episode 14; I can't keep up with all OUAT's twists and turns.)_

* * *

><p>One evening, Emma was kept late at the office with a noise complaint (that Azure boy had begun his incessant trumpet solos again), so Mary Margaret agreed to deliver the regular bundle to the pawn shop. As the shop's door shut behind her, she saw the Mayor, who had come on one of her visits to Rose. Regina often stopped by the shop to see her previous patient, and although she usually ignored Gold and only spoke tersely to Emma, her pretense of friendship toward Rose seemed designed to foster the girl's trust in her. Rose seemed wary during these meetings, but her former dependence on the woman made it difficult to view her with the level of suspicion and loathing that Rose sensed in both her employer and her guardian. Almost by habit from her long years of incarceration, she responded politely to Regina's friendly overtures.<p>

Mary Margaret listened as Regina finished, "...I'll be hosting as a thank you to the people of Storybrooke for their continued support for me as Mayor."

"What's happening?" she whispered to an elderly woman who was standing near the picture window.

"Madame Mayor was just talking about the party."

"What party?"

"She's throwing one at her home to celebrate her run as the Mayor of Storybrooke. She says the whole town is invited to attend, although if I know the Mayor, 'required' is more like it."

"But why?" asked Mary Margaret. Her forehead wrinkled. "She's never done anything like before." Regina had been Mayor for as long as anyone could remember, and Mary Margaret couldn't recall the last time a vote had been taken. However, she was intrigued by the idea of a special occasion; nothing interesting ever seemed to happen in Storybrooke, and celebrations were few and far between. People had finally stopped talking about her affair with David, and she thought tentatively that she might actually enjoy the event.

"Why does the Mayor do anything?" the older woman snapped. She moved closer as Regina picked up a large package that she had apparently brought into the store.

"I found this in my closet last week," said the Mayor, "and I thought you might like to wear it to the party. Why don't you try it on?" With a flourish, she brought out a covered clothes hanger. "Mr. Gold, will you allow your employee a moment from her work?" Gold inclined his head stiffly, and Rose took the package into the office and closed the door.

While they waited, Regina leaned on the counter and addressed Mr. Gold. Although she spoke to him alone, her voice was just loud enough to carry, and the customers listened eagerly. Despite—or perhaps because of—their fear for the Mayor and her forbidding adversary, they relished the chance to watch the two face off.

"So, how are you treating our young patient?" Regina asked him. "It's quite convenient that she lives just above the shop."

"Yes, it's fortunate for her," returned Mr. Gold evenly. "It makes it much easier for her to come and go as she pleases."

"And as you please, I suppose?" said the Mayor with a twist of her lips. "You must enjoy having her at your beck and call. Why, it's almost like having your own personal servant. I certainly hope you aren't taking advantage of the situation?"

Gold's face darkened and he began a retort, but a rustle at the office door silenced him as Rose walked into the room.

The dress was gold, just like the one she had been wearing the first day he met Belle. But there the similarity ended. The sheer, draping fabric clung to her like a second skin, shifting suggestively with every move she made. The swooping neckline was dangerously low, and the back practically nonexistent. Gold swallowed. Although all eyes in the room were on Rose, he felt completely exposed. As he averted his eyes, he caught sight of Regina's self-satisfied smirk.

And then he knew, and his mouth tightened. Regina was toying with him. She knew, and she was using it against him. He knew Regina's mantra-_love is a weakness-_but he never dreamed that she would find a way to use it against him here. He knew that his instinctive reaction—to gawp at Rose like every other man in the shop—would only assure the Queen that her plan was working. _Your Majesty,_ he thought wryly, _you never disappoint. _Once again, she was using the girl as a pawn. The black rage that haunted him every time he saw Regina began to boil over.

While she was dressing, Rose had thought she looked rather pretty, but now she shifted nervously. The customers were staring at her curiously, and she shivered as wind from an open window kissed her bare skin. She looked pleadingly at Mr. Gold, but his eyes were fixed just over her head, and his face was as set as stone. What must he think of her? She felt embarrassed and ashamed, although she couldn't have said why.

"Doesn't she look just delicious, Mr. Gold," the Mayor said, showing her teeth in a too-friendly smile. One of the men at the counter let out a low whistle, and Rose's face turned a deep shade of red.

"You look fetching, my dear, but rather plain. Something is missing." Mr. Gold spoke to Rose, but his eyes were fixed evenly on the Mayor's face. Steadily he reached above Rose's head and took down a bundle of cloth. "For you," he said casually. "I think it should fit well enough." He waited while she breathed a sigh of relief and drew it about her shoulders.

The material of the wrap reached just above her waist and draped perfectly. The heavy blue and gold brocade was obviously quite old but elegant, and the edging was expertly sewn and accented the dress perfectly. With the fabric covering her shoulders, her eyes looked even bluer than usual, and she was positively stunning. She also looked very demure.

"It's perfect!" she breathed. "But I'm not sure I can afford it. What does it cost?"

"Consider it a gift, my dear. If the Mayor can provide you with such a dress, the least I can do is give it a bit of color."

The Mayor's eyes narrowed, and then she smirked. "Well, well, well, Mr. Gold. Giving gifts to young girls? What will people think?" The low chuckle that emitted from the back of the room was abruptly stifled at his icy glare.


	12. Chapter 12

One evening a few weeks later, Mary Margaret joined Emma and Mr. Gold in the room above the shop to celebrate Rose's birthday. The Mayor's party the week before had gone well. Rose insisted on wearing her shawl throughout the evening, much to Emma's secret amusement, but nevertheless, she had been the belle of the ball. She spent the night talking to everyone, and her infectious good humor and open manner won over even the most unpleasant of the guests. Mr. Gold was not in attendance, not that anyone had expected him to be; he was nothing if not contrary. When Rose commented on his absence, Ruby retorted sourly that the only way Gold would have been present was if Regina had forbidden it.

After the Mayor's elaborate event, traffic at the pawn shop increased, and there were always a few men hanging about, scanning the shelved idly and gawking at the young assistant. Mr. Gold's reaction was mixed. He had never been known to turn away a customer, but he grew tense every time a man, often one who ought to know better, snuck a furtive glance at the young woman stocking the shelves. Emma, too, had noticed, and her visits to the store had increased in frequency.

Tonight, Emma watched surreptitiously as Rose sat on the counter, looking sideways at Mr. Gold from under lowered eyelashes. She knew, of course, that the girl had completely charmed her employer. She alone, of everyone in town, seemed unafraid of him. When he became somber and enigmatic she laughed, and she teased him in a way that no one else dared. He, in turn, was gentler and less sharp when she was in the shop. Sometimes Emma noticed him watching the young woman with a wistful half-smile on his face. Emma realized one day that she had never heard him truly laugh until Rose began to work at his shop.

But tonight, Rose was openly flirtatious. She laughed too much and often found reasons to touch Mr. Gold's arm or lean in to him conspiratorially, just a little closer than was necessary. She seemed to be playing a game, one that Emma recognized bleakly most pretty women learned at one time or another.

At first, Gold seemed not to notice. But eventually, his composure began to crack. His expression, when his eyes turned to Rose, became cautious and calculating. His usually placid demeanor took on an energetic, almost frenetic quality. Never since she met him had Emma seen him rattled. When he was sardonic, threatening, pensive—yes, even when she found him beating Moe—he was always sure of himself and his intentions. For the first time since she had met him, Emma realized suddenly, he faced something beyond his control.

_Be careful, girl, _she thought. _You could be playing with fire._

Rose was having fun. As innocent and unworldly as she was after her incarceration, she had just begun to realize the power that a beautiful woman can have over a man. At Mayor Mills's party and at the store, this frightened her. She saw the intensity in men's eyes as they looked at her, and dimly understood that something lurked behind their smiles. But with Mr. Gold, she knew she was safe. He was her landlord and her employer, but he was also her protector and friend. She knew that he would never hurt her, so she tested the funny little man, with an excitement that she didn't quite understand. Half-girl, half-woman, she was like a child with a new toy.

As the evening came to an end, Emma and Mary Margaret took their leave of Rose and trotted down the stairs. Mr. Gold followed them slowly, leaning heavily on his cane as it tapped across the floor. At the door, he said softly, "Happy birthday, my girl," with a mixture of relief and regret. He leaned forward to give her a courtly kiss on the cheek, as he had been wont to do of late when he and Rose closed the shop at the end of the evening. At the last moment—was it truly by accident?-Rose turned her head, and their lips met.

For a moment they lingered, as they had so long ago. For Gold, the sweet surprise and rightness of the moment had not changed, though decades had passed since he had first experienced such heartbreaking helplessness. Gold remembered it well, and he also remembered the scene that had followed. He could never forgive himself for the pain that he had caused Belle. He would not lose her again, but this beautiful girl—woman—was not his precious Belle, not now anyhow, and she had no idea of what he had been. With fear and regret, he broke away.

Rose had no idea what she had expected—she had been caught up in her private little game. But suddenly she felt an earnestness that she barely understood. Everything was strange and unfamiliar, but she dimly sensed that she had felt this way before. As if in a dream, she watched her employer draw away, and she realized with amazement that she had never seen him so defenseless. Cupping her chin in one gentle hand, he gazed into her eyes searchingly, and she was sure that he was about to kiss her again. Then he stepped back, and the spell was broken.

"Good night, dearie," he said in a broken voice. "Sleep well."

_What had she done?_

That night, he barely slept. He knew exactly what Regina was doing, but he could have handled that. Ever since he lost Baelfire, he had cared for no one but himself. When Belle had first flitted through his life, he had felt an inkling of humanity, but losing her reminded him that it was foolish to love anyone or anything again. If Regina thought she could hurt him, she had forgotten what a heartless beast he could be.

It was the girl's innocent flirtation that he couldn't dismiss. It was one thing to fall in love when they were alone in his castle and she knew his monstrous past. It was entirely different in Storybrooke, where eyes and ears were everywhere. He recalled the firestorm that had erupted when David and Mary Margaret's infidelity was exposed, and he knew what would happen if his secret longing became known. She was so pure, so delicate, that everyone would assume he had taken advantage of her, and she would suffer as much for it as he would. But more importantly, what if she remembered who and what he really was? Once, she had loved him despite his monstrosities, but this was not a fairy tale, and there was no happily ever after. Once, he had been terrified by the thought that a simple kiss that could undo a curse. Now, he wished that it was that easy.

Rose also slept little that night. Turning to him as he leaned close to her had been instinctive and completely unplanned. Then how come the kiss had felt as natural as it had unexpected? And why, when he drew away, had his eyes been so sad? She knew that there was something dangerous within him; she had heard the townspeople speak of him with a mix of fear and aversion. But now, she felt as if she knew something they did not—as if she had known him before. Though it would have sounded ridiculous, she sensed that he was trapped within himself, and she was suddenly struck with a fierce conviction that she had to free him. How crazy was that?

She wanted to talk with someone about this, but she didn't know how to begin. Ever since Regina's "gift," Rose's distrust of the woman had grown, and with it, she questioned everyone else's motives as well. Besides, what was she supposed to say? "I kissed the town ogre, and I think I liked it!" Even Emma, nonjudgmental as she was, would not understand. Rose hadn't felt this alone since she'd been locked in that cell.

* * *

><p><em>Too maudlin, anyone? My first draft was too short and spare, so I may have overcompensated. <em>


	13. Chapter 13

_I was really hoping to finish this before the finale, because all spoilers indicate that Episode 22 going to blow a lot of theories out of the water. Doubt I can make it, but might as well try. Is it worth it? Let me know if you think this story is worth finishing!_

* * *

><p>"Emma?" said Rose hesitantly one afternoon. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"<p>

"Sure," said Emma, her heart sinking. She had a feeling she knew what was coming, and she honestly wasn't sure how to handle it. After the birthday party, Emma had taken to dropping in at the pawn shop more frequently, always with some excuse or bit of news to share. When she did, she watched the two surreptitiously. Mr. Gold seemed more distant than before; he frequently left Rose to watch the counter alone while he worked in his back room, and when he was out front he politely resisted her attempts to draw him into conversation. More and more, he became as aloof with her as he was with everyone else. Although the girl tried to act as if nothing was wrong, she was clearly hurt by his rebuffs, and eventually began to maintain a tight-lipped silence at his approach.

Emma was pretty sure that something had happened the evening of Rose's birthday. She knew better than to pry; everyone was entitled to a private life. But she knew that things couldn't remain as they were. The tension in the shop was palpable, and Rose had begun to lose her sunny disposition.

Emma and Rose sat down on a bench outside the shop. "Go ahead, kiddo," Emma said easily. "What's on your mind?"

"I need your advice," Rose confessed. "Do you remember my birthday? Well, I didn't mean to, but….I think I made a mistake." When she saw Emma's expression, her face colored, and she shook her head vigorously. "No, not what you're thinking!" she protested. Rose was naïve, but she wasn't dumb, and she had heard Ashley's story and Emma's cautionary tale enough times to know what those raised eyebrows meant. "It's not like that." Haltingly, she told Emma about her flirtation and the resulting tension, which Emma pretended she had not noticed; no sense in making the girl feel worse. "I was silly is all, and now he doesn't want me anymore. Working at the store, I mean," she finished hastily.

_You wanna bet? _thought Emma.

She looked at the young girl's downcast face and realized that she didn't really have a choice. Thanks to Regina, she was the "guardian," the responsible adult. She leaned forward.

"Listen, let's just tell him that you need some girl time," Emma said. "Mary Margaret and I will be glad to have you, and you can stay for as long as you need. If he wants to know why you can't work anymore, tell him that I wanted you to take some time off. He won't argue with me." This was completely untrue, and they both knew it. If Mr. Gold wanted something, no one would stand in his way, least of all the upstart sheriff.

"You really wouldn't mind?" Rose asked. "I used to feel like I belonged here, but..." her troubled eyes sought the quiet man on the other side of the glass. Then she raised her chin defiantly. "On the other hand," she said, her tone changing, "I wouldn't like to stay where I'm not wanted. But won't I be in the way at your apartment?"

"It doesn't have to be forever," Emma reminded her. "You can always come back if you change your mind."

When they told him that Rose was leaving, Mr. Gold seemed unsurprised. He offered to help pack her things, and as he held the door while they left, his expression was a bit melancholy, but otherwise unchanged. After they left, he stood at the door for a long time. Then, slowly, he limped to the counter and opened a small hidden safe. He took out the chipped cup, which had remained locked away, unneeded, since Rose arrived. He gazed at it meditatively, turning it over in his hands. Then he placed it on its shelf out of sight beneath the cash register.


End file.
